Ways and Means
by crazylittleelf
Summary: A series of character studies inspired by Chichuri's Choke Chain AU.
1. Ways and Means

**Warnings**: Language, violence.

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Set when the characters are 23-ish. Implied Nick/Olivia.

* * *

The press of the crowd is nearly crushing as Peter weaves his way off the dance floor. The club reeks of sweat and spilled drinks and pheromones and he wants to just get this fucking mission over and go home because they've been on the road for weeks and he's sick to death of driving and they're all starting to snap at each other. He's closed in as tight as he can get but it's still fucking impossible to concentrate. The club is a huge converted warehouse with a dance floor the size of a football field, private rooms around the edge of the second floor, crowded with drunks looking to score. He struggles to filter out the noise of the crowd and catches flashes of disappointment and irritation from Nick and Olivia. If their mark is here, she's hiding well.

He heads upstairs to get a decent vantage over the crowd, to find a place where there aren't half a dozen strangers pressing against him, brushing against his skin. He only has to wait a few moments before Nick's at his side, giving off bright slivers of pain. They huddle together, strength in numbers to push away the din of the mob and he can feel Nick shaking. Olivia's moving towards them, slowed by being hit on every few steps.

"This isn't working." Nick's voice is strained.

He rubs at his forehead, willing the throbbing headache away. "No shit?" Olivia tucks herself between them, buries her face in Nick's neck and wraps her arms around him.

"I could just scatter them all?" Nick offers, rubbing circles on her back under her shirt.

"She'll scatter with them. Besides, we're supposed to keep this one quiet." He's trying to think but the effort of keeping them out is so fucking much. He can't even imagine how Nick's managing to function and he presses closer, closes his hand over the back of Nick's neck. Olivia peeks out from where she's hiding.

"One of us needs to go receiver, find her that way." He doesn't say anything for a few minutes, fuck, none of them do, but they know she's right.

Nick props his chin on top of her head and sweeps his eyes over the crowd. "You volunteering, Olive?"

She wrinkles her nose. "Hell no. We play for it. You two first."

The first round comes up with his rock to Nick's scisors. Nick makes a face and pushes Olivia away from him a little. Nick's paper to her rock, and he feels bad for her, knows Nick does too, but not nearly enough to take her place. He frequently wonders how upset The Bosses would be to find out how many of their field decisions are made this way.

"Fuck," she mutters. Her lips keep moving as she counts something to calm herself, focus as best she can. Nick pushes her over to him, backs off.

"I'll keep moving. When Olive finds her point me in the right direction." He nods and slips his arms around Olivia's waist, pulling her against him. Nick's moving quickly now, laying down distance before she opens up and when she does the buffet against him is like a fucking car wreck. He leans against the railing and concentrates on staying upright, tries to find a balance between between grounding her and keeping his sanity.

She's limp in his arms, breathing in shallow pants as she trawls the minds in the club. The warm weight of her is intoxicating and the little core of jealousy he has towards Nick surfaces followed by resigned embarassment. It's almost impossible to keep his walls up against her when she's this close to him but the three of them don't really have secrets from each other anymore anyway, just things they don't acknowledge. Honing them into the weapon they are joined them together pretty fucking completely. From the bursts of concern and occasional outright fear they get from their masters he's pretty goddamn sure it was unintentional.

She giggles against his chest. "'Livia?"

"There are a lot of people in this place having sex right now."

He snorts out a little laugh. "Well, duh. What do you think all these rooms up here are for?" He can feel the edges of what she's feeling, there's no blocking it out completely. Lust and violence and everything in between. She's skimming over the surface of the crowd faster now, working a pattern over the building and she stiffens when she finds who she's looking for.

"There." Whispered into his chest along with the location in his mind and Nick's already moving towards her.

"Come on, Nick's got this. Let's get the fuck out of here." He keeps his arms around her and steers her stumbling, glassy-eyed form down the stairs towards the exit, one more guy ushering a drunk girl out to the parking lot. She's giggling more than he's ever heard, completely fucking wasted from the emotions she's absorbed.

Nick's not long in coming and he's maybe overdone it with the mark. She's clinging to him, wrapped around him and he's going to have bruises on his neck for days. "Jesus, man."

"She's high. X or something, I don't know, get her off of me."

Peter untangles her arms from around Nick, keeps her from attaching herself to him and leans her against the car next to Olivia. He flashes her what he hopes is a charming smile. "Wait here a sec, 'k?" He turns back to Nick and they paw through her bag. "You don't think she'd have it on her, do you?"

"Dunno. Doubtful. It's definitely not _on her_ on her, I checked her on the way out of the club. We can get her address off her ID card and… Whoa." Nick's voice is low and emotions flare wildly, eyes wide as he stares over Peter's shoulder.

He looks up from the girl's planner and turns to follow Nick's stare. "Dude."

The girl's arms are locked around Olivia's neck, lips against hers and Olivia's got a dazed little smile on her face that short circuits something in his mind. He and Nick are both fucking staring and the mark pulls away from Olivia's mouth, murmurs something into her ear. Olivia smiles again and her eyes flutter open to meet Nick's. He's dimly aware that someone's coming up behind him and he's readying the retort to leave them the fuck alone when something shifts and he gets a burst of panic from her, bright like shards of glass and just as painful.

The gunshot's deafening and he drops to the ground, rolling to face the enemy and there's a gun in his face and even if he was armed he'd never get to his weapon in time and this sure as fuck isn't how things were supposed to end. There's a split second when he meets the gunman's eyes and then he's wavering like asphalt in summer, grip on the gun loosening.

"Shit!" He runs into Nick as they both try to scramble away from the flames that are starting to lick up the gunman's body. They're too close, far too close and he can hear Nick yelling her name. He feels the pressure in front of him as she flings the man away just before he detonates. He watches in horror as the explosion takes out the front of the building, the crowd there flashing away in an instant. "Oh fuck."

He struggles to his feet and pulls Nick after him. She's still holding the girl's body, both of them sliding to the ground as Olivia collapses. She's staring at the fire, the left side of her face splattered with the girl's blood and bits of bone, her clothing wet and red. He keeps ahold of Nick's hand and grabs hers, pulling them along after him. It's fucking chaos, people churning out of the ruins of the club and they're running with everyone else, aimless along the streets until distance and training slow their flight. A few blocks later and he finds a car that'll work for them and they're in and away in moments.

The apartment is across town and he's glad he memorized all the maps and not just the streets around the club. He's trying to tune out Olivia's panicky sobs from the backseat, just get them where they're going. Nick's voice is a low, constant stream and by the time they get to the apartment she's gone blank and is just barely functional. They park her in the living room, in front of a huge aquarium and he and Nick search the apartment, working their way through the rooms systematically.

They're in a back bedroom, rooting around under the bed and Nick's been glancing at him since they got there. "What?"

Nick rocks back on his heels and runs his hands over his head and looks over to Peter, eyes wide with worry. "She's really close to breaking."

"Yeah. Got that."

"What are we gonna do?"

Peter shrugs. "We hold her together." He looks over and Nick and holds up the little clear disc he found under the mattress. "We've done it before." He stands and offers a hand to Nick, pulls him up and and tries to push reassurance to him through his grip on Nick's hand.

"Come on. Let's get the fuck out of here. We can find someplace on the road to stop for the night. Get some rest."

Nick nods. "Yeah. Okay."

She's staring into the aquarium, fingertips pressed against the glass. Tears are starting to slide down her cheeks, cutting tracks through the blood and Nick goes to her. He slides one hand over the back of her neck and fuck, Peter wants to go to the both, just hold them but they can't stay much longer. "Nick…"

"Come on, Olive. We've gotta leave." He pulls her away from the aquarium gently and she shakes him off with a little snarl.

"Olivia, we can't… what are you doing?" Peter frowns as she digs around in the cabinet under the fish tank, comes up with a chunk of some white crap that she drops into the water. He walks over to stand next to her and they all three watch the fish nibble at the feeder as it sinks to the bottom. He clenches his teeth against the pain and turns to wrap her into a hug, kisses her forehead.

He gets them to a motel on the edge of town, gets them a room, herds them into it. "Get her cleaned up. I'll call this in." Nick looks like he's going to protest for a moment but he nods and guides Olivia into the bathroom. He calls home and the hollowness of his voice must have clued the handler in; he barely gets any flack. The report is quick. They'll have to answer for things when they get back but for now they can rest and he's already working out how to spin things to deflect the worst of the fallout away from Olivia. He turns the phone off and throws it down on the battered dresser. He can hear water running in the bathroom and heads to the open door, leans heavily against the frame.

Olivia's sitting on the counter wearing panties and a tank top. Nick's in front of her in his boxers, their blood-splattered clothing in the bathtub. She's tapping the fingertips of her left hand against her thumb rapidly, her lips moving to recite some equation, some sequence. Nick tilts her head up to scrub at a smudge of blood on her neck then tosses a red-tinged washcloth into the tub. Nick looks over to him. "Trouble?"

"Nah… I'll take care of it." He reaches over and rubs his knuckles lightly over her cheek. "Ready for bed?"

She looks at him but he's not really sure she sees him. Nick takes her hand and tugs gently. "Bedtime, sleepy Olive." Nick leads her to bed and Peter strips his clothing off as well, adding it to the pile they'll burn somewhere along the road back to Boston. He splashes water over his face, glares at his reflection for a moment and heads to the front room.

Nick's on his back, staring at the ceiling and Olivia's curled herself against his side. Peter watches them a moment, too weary now even for jealousy before moving to the other bed.

Nick lifts his head, gives him a puzzled look. "Don't be stupid, Peter."

A smile twitches the corner of his mouth. "What? You kick in your sleep."

"Lies."

He shrugs and crawls under the blanket and molds himself along Olivia's back. He concentrates and slips past the walls, past the strange dark places in her mind until he finds where she's hiding. Nick's there, too, and they tangle their thoughts around her like their limbs.


	2. Cold Comfort

**Warnings**: None.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Character study of little!Olivia. Set when the characters are 8 or so.

* * *

The new alarm on the window was irritating her. The first time she set it off she was halfway out the window and the acrid, orange-tinged screech startled her so badly she fell to the ground. Always check. Lesson learned.

She sat on the floor under the window, back pressed against the wall. They had moved her bed again, back to the front of the room under the ugly picture of cows. She'd move it back, maybe tomorrow. They all eventually pushed their beds across the room, as far from the door as they could get. She traced the circuits of the alarm with her mind for a few minutes before giving up. It wasn't beyond her, she knew. She was just tired from the testing and training and couldn't separate which path would trip the alarm and which would silence it. They changed it constantly.

The stupid alarm was probably another test anyway and she didn't want to take any more tests. She sighed and picked absently at a scab on her knee, listening for the orderly to make her rounds. It was too cold in her room. They were always cold after a test and she had pulled on her fuzzy pajamas with the bullfrogs on them. She looked at her grass-stained toes and wanted socks but she was too tired to get up to find any. The cold sounded wrong and it made her scared and she didn't like being scared.

Today had been hard. There was a new test and none of them had done very well. Her head was filled with blurry, noisy pain and she wanted to just curl up on the floor and sleep but she kept getting little shards of panic from Nick. The school's new insistence that they be independent and mature and not cling to each other like children when they were upset irritated her, too.

It was okay though. They hadn't put an alarm on her door yet.

She padded across the room and paused at the door, listening before cracking it open and slipping out. Her bare feet were silent against the floor and she counted the tiles as she stepped on them. She didn't like stepping on the green ones. She avoided the security cameras easily.

Peter was already there and she burned hot with jealousy for a moment. Nick was hers to take care of, not Peter's, Peter in his stupid Scooby-Doo pajamas who got to leave when it wasn't summer.

"Don't be like that Olivia. You'll make him more upset."

She made an annoyed little sound at him but he was right. She hated how he was always right.

Nick was laying on his side, back against the wall. His head was pillowed on one of Peter's chubby arms and Peter was humming softly.

She crawled into bed behind Peter, draped her arm over him and over Nick, too. Peter was always warm. He smelled like the color of the sky where it met the ocean that one time they went to Dr. Bishop's house and got to play on the beach and he sounded like ice cream. Nick sounded like trees.

She pulled the blanket over them. Nick was still shivering and he was making her shiver, too. He held her hand so hard it hurt. Peter sang as quietly as he could and she couldn't really hear him but she could feel the sound where her cheek pressed against his back. They'd get caught in the morning, extra chores and lectures on rules and they'd do the same thing again the next time it was bad.


	3. Distant Early Warning pt 1

**Warnings**: Character death.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Nick and Olivia lose someone. Set when the characters are 16-ish.

* * *

It starts out as a dream. Nick knows it's her dream not his; the colors are all wrong everything sounds like something else. She's at the beach and there are stars on the surface of the ocean and she's playing connect the dots with them. She can hear someone yelling behind her but she doesn't want to look, doesn't want to give up the stars but she turns and the dream shifts. There's blood on the floor, streaks leading to another room and flames are already licking up the walls. There's stark fear and panicked flight. There's a familiar hand writing in blood on the wall and she reads the words before the explosion. He's already awake and running to her room when she starts screaming.

Nina finds them huddled together on the floor in the corner of her bedroom. He's lost track of time, thinks they're probably late to the morning training exercises. They're a tangle of long, lean limbs and Olive is still whimpering a little when Nina gets there. She sighs when she sits on the edge of Olive's bed. She's been crying, too and the grief rolling off of her is stronger than anything he's ever felt from her. She just sits with them for a while and when she finally speaks her voice is rough.

"Olive… I'm so very sorry learned of Dr. Bishop's death they way you did." She's twisting the fingers of her real hand over her other hand.

"Nick was there, too." Her voice is small and distant. "In the dream. We saw him."

She looks at them and as sad as she is he can tell she's measuring them with familiar scrutiny. "Did you see anyone else?"

She curls her fingers around his. "No."

"Olive…Nick… was there anything unusual about what you saw? Anything that could help us find who did this to him?"

She shakes her head and tightens her fingers around his. He feels it then, the suggestion from her like when she takes the lead in a training simulation. _Follow_, and he does. "No, Nina." When Nina looks at him he shakes his head, too.

Nina sighs again. "I'm very sorry you won't be able to attend his funeral, Olive. I know you were very fond of him. He wanted to be buried where he grew up and we just can't travel to England right now." She seems about to say something else but stands to leave instead. She's halfway to the door when Olive asks.

"Nina?"

"Yes, dear?"

"What about Peter?"

Nina hesitates and he gets worry from her, tightly guarded but seeping out. The grief is making her careless around them. "That's still rather up in the air."

Olive frowns. "Why? Won't he be buried where Dr. Bishop is?"

Nina's mouth drops open for just a moment before she recovers. "Olive…?"

"I think he should be even though he grew up here. They should be together." Tears well up and splash down her cheeks when she blinks.

Nina looks close to tears now, too, dejected. "Yes… that wold be best, wouldn't it?" She continues to the door and sorrow flows like water behind her. He waits until she's well away.

He frowns at her. "Why'd you do that?"

"It's what Dr. Bishop wanted."

"But Olive… he didn't mean to protect Peter from her."

She shrugs and he knows it's not something she'll be able to explain. She knows things sometimes, more than they're supposed to know. He pulls her close and kisses her temple. "Okay."

He can feel her building the walls, cutting Peter off as best she can, helping him hide. He feels the last barrier go up and the gossamer threads that tie him to Peter through her go dim and they're alone.


	4. Distant Early Warning pt 2

**Warnings**: Language.

**Spoilers**: None.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Peter runs. Set when they're 16 or so.

* * *

He was late. Very late and Walter was going to be fucking fuming. He'd skipped out of class early to check out David's new car, a vintage Firebird with a great body and shit for an engine and Peter was probably going to spend the rest of the year rebuilding the thing. He'd passed on getting home in time for dinner to flirt with Angela instead, also a great body but she was vapid beyond imagining and he couldn't really put much enthusiasm into the production. He'd missed curfew to hit up a party in Belmont that turned out to be a complete waste of time and he was cranky and tired and did not want to be yelled at by Walter.

He was a few blocks from home when the echos of pain and fear hit him, her voice screaming in his head.

He slammed on the breaks and sat panting for a moment. He could see the glow from the fire and feel them waiting, feel her chanting _run run run. _He put the car in reverse and whipped around, headed west looking for any sort of perimeter guard they might have put in place. Traffic was almost nonexistent this early in the morning and he made the edge of the city in record time. He scanned the road behind him in a nervous pattern.

He could feel the plan forming in her mind even as she sobbed against Nick, saw flashes of her dream and forced away the consuming grief that Walter's last act was to protect him. His hand shook when he turned the radio on to provide background noise. He debated leaving the interstate for smaller roads but decided he'd make better time this way. For now. Soon he'd have to ditch the fucking car, he'd be too easy to find in it. Ditch the car, change directions, throw them off. The training was kicking in, taking over. He'd need cash and a couple stolen credit cards, another car, clothing. He thought about going after the money in their accounts but it was too risky. He just wasn't fucking prepared for this.

The sun was wheeling its way across the mid-morning sky when he felt there was enough distance and pulled off the road.

The rest stop was nearly empty. A few trucks that hadn't moved out with the morning's arrival. An old man walking a little dog. He walked across the sparse grass to a table near the back of the clearing. The dense wall of trees rustled in the light wind. He sank to the bench and watched the parking lot, watched the cars pass and knew he'd be looking over his shoulder forever.

The wall was there now, like when she didn't want him to know something, like when they practiced keeping each other out. It was stronger though, better and he knew she wasn't fucking around, that when she was done they'd never be able to use her to find him. He loved her for protecting him, for lying for him and he hated her because she had Nick and he was alone. For a brilliant second he could feel her so clearly, feel Nick behind her, then they were gone and he dropped his head to his hands and sobbed.


	5. Summer Blows Away

**Warnings**: None.

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Kisses are awkward sometimes. Set when the characters are 16ish.

* * *

The beach house was her favorite place, a reward for hard work and diligent training. A week at the end of summer of being lazy and getting sunburnt and sneaking out at night to swim in the moonlight. Pancakes in the morning and sand between her toes and it was the only part of summer she liked.

The bonfire was Peter's idea. He always knew when there was a party. Nick called him their social coordinator and Peter laughed and said they needed one. She had tried to weasel her way out, stay at the house but they grabbed her hands and pulled her along with them, laughing as they walked down the beach. She was getting better at acting normal but crowds and strangers still made her nervous, made her over-talk about equations or game theory or something else no one wanted to hear. Peter slung his arm around her shoulders and expounded on broadening her social horizons and Nick held her hand and let his amusement wash over to her in calming waves.

Peter split off from them immediately, greeting friends and laughing. She trailed after Nick who headed over to a group of skateboarders. She flopped down on the sand and leaned up against a thick clump of seagrass, watched the fire. A few kids waved to her, called out a greeting and she waved back. Sammy dropped down next to her and handed her a beer.

"Mmm… that's probably not a good idea." She wrinkled her nose and tried to hand it back to him.

"Relax." He grinned at her and leaned close to her ear. "It's orange Crush. I know you don't really drink so I thought this would be all sneaky like." He winked at her and she couldn't stop the grateful smile.

"Thanks."

He shrugged and leaned back, taking a long pull on his own bottle that was certainly not orange Crush. "So, you're just going to sit here all night?"

She shrugged back at him, looked down at her feet, sat the soda down in the sand next to her, twisting the bottle to dig a little cup holder.

"You guys are going home tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Classes start pretty soon." It was almost the truth, classes and training being pretty much interchangeable in her mind.

He nodded. "I wish you lived here all year."

"Me too," and she meant it. She smiled at him and could feel the decision as he made it. He leaned towards her and she forced herself not to move. When his lips hit hers the jumble of emotion was jarring and strange and just too much. She pulled back from him quickly and was slightly reassured that he was blushing just as much as she was.

"Um…"

"Sorry…"

They both stuttered to a halt and she chewed on her lower lip trying to figure out what to say. _I can't kiss you because it freaks me out_ didn't seem like it would go over very well.

"Well, um… I'll see you next summer?" He sounded vaguely hopeful and she tried to smile.

"Yeah. Next summer."

He muttered a goodbye and threaded his way through the crowd. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on her crossed arms.

* * *

She was trying to shove everything back in her bag, trying to work out how a week's worth of clothing had come out of the bag and expanded to the point that it wouldn't fit back into the bag. She shook out a t-shirt and frowned at the sand that came off of it and calculated how much sand would make the difference between her clothes fitting in the bag and the Tetris-like nightmare she was fighting now. She felt him come up the hall and stop in the doorway and smiled in anticipation.

In a drawer in her room back home she had a present for every summer they visited the beach house. Shells, chunks of sea glass, a perfectly round stone the color of her eyes. She never asked why he gave them to her and when the training was hard, when her muscles and mind ached to the point of collapse she would pull them out and lose herself in the memories.

When she turned he held up and gold coin and walked it across the back of his fingers. After a few passes he tossed the coin in the air, caught it and displayed his empty hand to her.

"Oh, awesome!"

He caught her wrist and dropped the coin into her palm with his other hand. She exaimned the coin for a moment before smiling at him. "Thanks."

"Welcome."

She felt his intentions the moment before he moved, shifting towards her, stroking his thumb across the inside of her wrist. He tasted like maple syrup and and ice cream and the soft slide of his lips across hers made her heart pound. She pulled away and dropped her eyes to where his hand held her wrist, her fist clenched around the coin. Her mind offered up Nick's face and notions of betrayal and they parted guiltily. Neither of them could meet each other's eyes after that and she was glad to crawl in the backseat of the big sedan and be driven back to the place she considered to be home.

* * *

They had stopped sneaking out of their rooms years earlier. When it became clear that the alarms and safeguards were no challenge the game lost its appeal. She waved at Vanessa as she passed the security station at the end of the hall. Nick's door was unlocked and he was hunched over lesson plans at his desk. They were refining the training process for recruits and Nick was helping with the younger ones, his infectious enthusiasm an asset. They were soldiers now and were both settling into their new responsibilities well. She leaned against the back of his chair, pulled the pen from his hand and closed the folder.

"Its still summer."

He turned and grinned up at her. "For like, three hours. That doesn't even count."

"Yes, it does."

"You hate summer. You get bored and you bitch constantly about how you can't wait for fall. What gives?"

She shrugged turned away from him. He caught her wrist in his hand and pushed gently against the guarded surface of her thoughts and she wasn't trying to keep him out, really, but nervousness was making her retreat behind her walls. "Olive?"

She shifted from one foot to the other, lost her never completely. "Sorry. It's nothing. I'll let you work."

She headed for the door. He rose and anchored her, letting her reach the length of their arms before pulling her back. He cupped her cheek in his free hand and smiled at her and his eyes were bright and familiar, comforting and she smiled too as the feelings circled between them. He leaned down and when his lips met hers he felt like sparks. She grinned against his mouth, hummed happily as his hand slid from her cheek to her hair. She looped her arms around his neck and the part of her mind that calculated everything noted that they fit together perfectly.


	6. Blink of an Eye

**Warnings**: None.

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Olive meets John. Briefly. Set when the characters are 25ish.

* * *

She felt the danger a moment before the lab was raided. The idiot scientist was attempting to justify his latest failure and she was almost at the end of her patience. He was being careless and unproductive and wasn't much of an asset anymore. She doubted he'd be very comforted that he was about to become an example to any of their other employees who were not working at the high standards ZFT required. The scent of abject terror coming off of him indicated that he wasn't totally clueless and she might have felt bad for him but she was having a crappy day and just wanted to kill him and go home. She was licking the corner of her mouth, casting her eyes around the messy lab working out what she was going to use to bash his head in when she swiveled towards the door then bolted towards the back of the warehouse.

The door splintered moments later and it was the fucking FBI. She heard the scientist squeal and there was gunfire and a clash of something falling and someone had done her work for her. She took the steps to the second floor three at a time and hit the fire escape door a second after killing the alarm. She jumped from the top of the landing and hit the pavement in a roll that took her back to her feet. She wasted a few seconds to see if anyone was following, eyes up to the door before scanning the alley. She sprinted towards the back of the alley and ran right into the FBI agent as they rounded the corner at the same time.

She turned to run and he was on her, a diving tackle that dropped her to the ground, slamming his fist into her hand and knocking her gun away. He rolled her to her back, pinning her and things shifted around her. There was a dizzying moment of recognition and the blue eyes looking down at her were achingly familiar, confusion drawing brows together and pursing lips that she knew would taste like coffee and lies. She recovered first and her fist met his temple and even with the awkward angle he went sprawling.

She collected her gun, hesitated only a moment before pulling the trigger and loping away. The shifting her that recognized him screamed in rage but she'd long ago learned to ignore such apparitions.


	7. Island in the Sun

**Warnings**: None.

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Olive visits Rachel. Set when the characters are 25ish.

* * *

The sun was warm on his face, the faintest of breezes ruffling through his short hair. He closed his eyes and lifted his face towards the sun. The shouts and laughter of kids playing drifted over to him and it was a far more soothing sound than he ever would have imagined. He stretched his legs out and laid his arm along the back of the bench behind her and tried to enjoy the day instead of soaking up her pain.

She liked hurting herself. He'd figured out when they were kids that she did it because sometimes she couldn't feel anything at all and was desperate for any sort of sensation. They healed quickly and rarely scarred so it was easy enough to hide from their instructors, the people who called themselves caregivers with straight faces. When she remembered that it hurt him too she would stop but sometimes it was hard for her to remember. Sometimes the only thing she could feel was him and she looked at him with hateful eyes and he let her hurt him until it hurt her and he would hold her until she stopped crying.

The little dark-haired girl shrieked and giggled. She was bigger now, growing quickly and he could tell she was going to be tall and skinny. She ran back to her mother and flung her arms around the blond woman's neck. He and Olive sat on a bench in the park near the playground, a young couple enjoying lunch outside before hearing back to boring cooperate jobs. Her eyes never left the blond woman and her darker haired daughter, sandwich untouched on the bench beside her.

He thought for a while that she'd out grown out of it like she'd out grown biting her fingernails, but she'd just changed. She looked at pictures of Peter, Dr. Bishop, her parents and drowned herself in misery. She stalked the sister she wasn't supposed to remember, the one who hadn't been useful and so had been abandoned. Personally, Nick thought she got the better deal but he kept that thought to himself. Next to him Olive sighed and brushed imaginary crumbs from her lap and stood up, walked away without a word. He glanced at Rachel and Ella one last time and then followed her.


	8. Sleep of the Just

**Warnings**: tiny language warning.

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Peter has trouble sleeping.

* * *

Bleak. It was, he thought, a good word. Rather, an appropriate one given the expressions of the operatives around the conference table. Even the table was bleak; a big slab of black stone with sharp edges. He rubbed his finger along the corner and tried to focus his eyes. Someone was droning on, reducing the events of the last few days to dry statistics instead of bleeding, screaming children, collateral damage in the war. His head was throbbing, edges of his vision starting to dim and he wished they'd hurry the fuck up with the debriefing so he could go home. He lifted his and hand frowned at how badly he was shaking. There was no way he was going to be able to drive home and the thought of spending the night at the ZFT compound was as unpleasant as the last mission had been. People started standing up, conferring among themselves in hushed tones and he pushed back from the table. He was rather amazed that he made it out to the hall without stumbling.

She was leaning against the wall just outside the door, twirling her keys impatiently around one finger. She met his eyes, gestured with her head towards the exit and he fell in beside her. He let himself shut down then, let his mind go blank, just followed. He heard someone calling his name behind them, distant and unreal, and she silenced the voice with a glare. She held doors open for him, tucked him in to the passenger seat, pressed a Gatorade into his hands.

"Nick says to drink that."

He stared blankly at the bottle, baffled by the cap until she pulled it from his fingers and opened it. He drank, pretty proud that he could remember how to do that and she wove through traffic in a way that usually scared the crap out of him but he was too tired for fear. He was too tired for sleep, stared out the side window without seeing. He was too tired to tell her how awful it had been but she knew anyway.

At the townhouse Nick opened the door before she could get the key in the lock, worry and relief painted on his open face. He steered Peter into the kitchen and pushed him down into a chair. Peter closed his eyes and leaned his head back, slumping to rest his head on the back of the chair. Nick was moving quietly, motions deliberate to reduce the sound, stealthy as he was in the field. He was radiating calm and contentment and it helped some, eased the stabbing pain behind his eyes and quieted the lingering horror.

Olivia returned with sweats and a t-shirt and he changed in the kitchen. She kicked the pile of dirty clothing into the laundry room and slammed the door on it. Nick sat a bowl of soup in from of him.

"Here ya go. Eat that."

Peter managed a few bites before forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. Nick nudged him gently, bumping his knee into Peter's when he sat in the chair next to him. "Eat." He finished eating that way, Nick prodding him every few minutes until the bowl was empty and he was herded off to get ready for bed. He was starting to feel vaguely human again when he left the bathroom.

Olivia was already curled in the center of the bed. He crawled in next to her and his mouth twitched towards something resembling a smile as she wrapped herself around him. Nick switched off the lights and Peter was tucked between two warm forms, pinned with arms and legs, nuzzled with gentle lips and thoughts. He let the warmth of them drag him under, the evenness of their perfectly synced breathing lulling him to sleep.

He was in that misty place between dreaming and awaking when the events of the previous day ambushed him, images of fire and screams jolting him back to consciousness. He started at the little stars arranged in a spiral on the ceiling and tried to slow his breathing. Olivia's arm was flung across his stomach, tucked around his hip. Nick's arm was bent across his chest, hand resting loosely near her face. She murmured something about cake, babbling in her sleep, the torrent of thoughts rising to the surface of her mind. He nuzzled the top of her head, nosing into her hair. Nick blinked himself awake.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." Whispered, playfully accusatory.

Peter tried to shrug which caused Olivia to tighten her grip on him and growl a little in her sleep.

"Careful."

Peter snorted. "Not afraid of her."

"Yeah you are, dude." Nick laughed and snuggled closer. He looked up after a few minutes. "You want me to make you go to sleep?"

"Nah." Nick raised an eyebrow at him and Peter sighed. "Okay, fine."

Nick shifted, brushed his lips over the corner of Peter's mouth. Peter turned and their lips slid together and he just managed to murmur his thanks before blackness closed over him and he slept.


	9. Otters

**Warnings**: Nothing specific

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Nick and Olive get lost at the zoo. Set when they're 7ish.

* * *

The thick glass holding back the water is smeared with fingerprints but Nick's found a reasonable clean place to look through. Olive's bored and hot, her hand sweaty in his but she's content to just stand with him. They're standing in the deep shadows of the fake cave, pressed against the cool glass. She doesn't like the zoo and he gets it, understands but he doesn't mind it so much and anyway, the otters are out playing today and they're his favorite. One of them dives down along the glass, right in front of them and he squeezes her hand and she squeezes back, lets his happiness wash over her. He nearly misses the footsteps coming up behind them but Olive doesn't, no one can sneak up on her.

"Hi there." The voice is forced-friendly, almost covering the irritation at having to deal with more lost brats.

Olive glances at the security guard then flicks her eyes back to the otters. "Hello."

The guard kneels down to put himself at eye level with her and she wants to back away from him but she doesn't, stays there even though he's too close to her. "Are you and your brother lost?" The guard smiles and it's meant to be reassuring.

They both frown, irritated and Olive resists the urge to roll her eyes. Nick tightens his hand on hers but doesn't look away from the animals splashing around in the water.

"We're not lost." She wants him to go away but she's pretty sure that's not going to happen. She can't figure out what to say to make him leave.

"Where are your parents, sweetie?"

She hates that question. Nick hates it too and tears his eyes away from the otters long enough to glare at the guard. He pushes fear at him, just enough to make the guard back off before turning away again. Olive keeps her eyes on the guard, watches him retreat, watches him talk into his radio. She sighs, working it out just a little too late.

"You did that wrong." It's not really a reprimand, just an observation, and she hadn't come up with anything better before hand so she's not blaming him. She makes sure he knows that so he doesn't feel bad.

Nick doesn't say anything.

"You should have made him happy, made him feel like it was okay that we're here. Now he's calling more people 'cause he's scared. We're gonna get in trouble."

Nick turns and looks over at the guard.

"Oh." He thinks for a moment and rubs at his nose with his free hand. "I could try again?"

The guard is darting his eyes nervously between them and the little path leading down to the enclosure.

"It's too late."

Two other guards come up the path and stop to talk with the first one. He's pointing at them and they all look really confused. Nick lets Olive pull him away and they walk towards the guards. They're used to being in trouble and it's was worth it anyway, to see the otters playing.


	10. Field Trip

**Warnings**: Mild violence

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Set when the characters are children. Peter is 7, Nick is 5.

* * *

Peter knew there's a stream somewhere in the fields behind the school and he wanted to find it. Nick helped him slip away. Nick was better at that than he was and Olivia turned off the alarm on gate in the fence. It was working out okay but the field was _big_. Way bigger than it looked from the window of his room. Some of the older kids rode horses back here but no one was here now. Everyone was in class.

Supposed to be in class.

The teachers were probably looking for them already but without the alarms to help it'd take them a while to figure out they weren't in the building.

Peter looked over his shoulder. "Come on."

Olivia glared at him and pulled on Nick's hand.

Nick made a pathetic face at him. "You said this would be fun."

"It is fun. We're not in class, right. It's not much farther."

Nick planted his feet and drug Olivia to a stop. He pouted. "You're a liar, Peter."

"I'm not lying. It's just where those trees are."

Olivia had closed the distance between her and Nick and stood pressed against his side. "It doesn't look that far." She smiled at Nick and Peter felt the flicker of the way they talked to each other over the thing that connected them. He hated that; he couldn't hear them.

"Come on, Olivia. If Nick's such a baby that he can't keep up he can stay here."

Her eyes were flat and cold. She reminded him of the snake they had in science class. "Don't call him a baby."

"He's too little to keep up with us. He is a baby."

"Olive, don't." Nick's eyes were big and frightened.

What he felt then wasn't a flicker. It wasn't like anything he'd felt before. It was hot and angry and it hit his mind an instant before Olivia tackled him. He got his arms up like he'd been taught but she was really fast and her fist connected with his jaw before he could really do anything.

"Stop it!"

He was bigger than she was and pushed her off him. He got in a pretty good kick to her shin in the process. He tried grabbing her hands but that didn't really work so well; she bit one of his wrists hard enough to draw blood. He kicked at her again and finally got over her well enough to pin her a little.

"Stop fighting!"

His head swam and all he could see were Olivia's eyes, wide with shock as he slumped towards her. Her hands dropped to the ground beside her head, limp, still. He could feel her heart pounding and this close he could feel confusion and panic. He thought he should probably get up and figure out if his nose was bleeding but he just couldn't move, it was too much effort.

Nick sniffled over them. "I don't like it when you fight."

Peter rolled off of Olivia and stared up at him. Olivia's voice was raspy. "What did you do?"

"I made you stop." Nick smiled and it scared Peter a little. "I want to go play Legos. The stream is stupid and it isn't even there anyway. Come on."

Olivia stood up first, shaky, and she pulled him to his feet. Peter squeezed her hand and tried to make her feel his apology through their skin. She smiled, just a little.

Nick took her other hand and led them back home.


	11. The End

**Warnings**: Character death.

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Written for Death Bingo. Prompt: Old age.

* * *

She's standing on the porch watching the ocean. She's tired — they're all tired — and she's leaning against the railing. Peter's sleeping and Nick can catch whispers of dreams from him but they're faint and distant. Summer is long past and the air is cold but this place has been home to them longer than anywhere else and he knows they won't be returning to the city this year.

***

_He remembers long days spent at the beach house watching Peter and Olive swimming. He doesn't like the water but it makes them happy so he loves it for that. They bound up the sand like puppies and water glitters on their skin like gems. They're racing up the stairs of the house and Olive is winning, just barely, and Peter catches her around the waist and pulls her back. They're laughing and they tumble into the hammock and it sways wildly under them._

_***_

She turns and even in the gray light of the storm-dimmed sky her eyes flash pale green. She brushes her fingers over his as she passes and follows her down the hall, automatic as breathing.

***

_He remembers the first time he kissed Olive — really kissed her, not just something between friends. He remembers the feel of her hair when he buries his fingers in it and the press of her lips and how complete she makes him feel. He remembers the first time he kissed Peter, too. _

***

Peter doesn't stir when she settles on the bed next to him. She curls against him and lets her eyes drift closed and she's so tired. Nick turns the light out and it's started raining, little drops battering against the windows. He pulls the fluffy comforter over them and settles against Peter. He brushes his hand across Olive's cheek and her eyes flutter open.

***

_He remembers when Peter gave them their rings. They're a surprise for New Year's Eve the year after the war ends — after they save the world —and Nick is amazed that Peter kept it a secret but Peter likes surprising them. Peter's so nervous, almost embarrassed when he gives them the little boxes that each have two rings, each ring with one name etched inside the band. They're plain, unadorned titanium and Olive whispers, "Perfect," when she puts one ring on each hand and smiles._

***

It startles him even though he's expecting it. Peter goes still and the presence of his mind dims. Nick feels empty, achingly empty, like part of him is missing. Olive's hand tightens around his and the exhaustion is over whelming. He watches her eyes across Peter's still chest until they close again, until she's sleeping. He watches her for a long time and the storm has past by the time she goes still and he's alone. It's hard to fall asleep without them.

***

_He remembers when they were little, laying in the field behind the school. They are blowing the fluff off dandelions and making wishes._

_"Tell me what you wished for."_

_"It doesn't work if you say it out loud." He usually didn't mind but this one was important._

_"That's not true."_

_He sneaks a glance at Olive. She's laying on her back counting clouds. She'd know if it was true or not. She nudges him with one bare foot._

_"It doesn't matter. They're just weeds. They can't make wishes happen so it doesn't matter if you say it out loud or not."_

_He looks back at Peter. Peter is bigger than he is and teases him sometimes but he's his best friend other than Olive. He almost doesn't want to tell in case Peter thinks it's stupid but this is a good wish._

_"I wish that we're always together. That we're always friends."_

_Olive rolls over and looks at him and Peter smiles. "Yeah. That's a good wish."_

_Nick smiles black at them. Later they go to the stream and look for frogs and secretly Nick thinks that Olive is wrong about dandelions making wishes happen._


	12. Not Paranormal At All

**Warnings**: Violence

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Written for Death Bingo. Prompt: Pulled apart / dismembered. Set when they're 25-ish.

* * *

"So is this really necessary?" Peter glanced around the parking lot before dropping his eyes back to Olivia.

She looked up from where she was working and squinted against the beam of the flashlight Peter was holding. "Couldn't hurt."

He raised an eyebrow. "Actually I'm pretty sure it hurt quite a lot. He was trying to scream until just a few minutes ago."

She shrugged and rubbed at her cheek with the back of her hand. Peter worried about himself a little that he found the streak of blood left behind charming rather than macabre.

"He's supposed to send a message but not be anything weird."

"This isn't weird?" Peter gestured to the convulsing body and recently severed arm Olivia was holding. The pinky finger was still twitching.

"Not weird like some of the stuff we could do. It's not… paranormal."

She said the word like it tasted bad. She dropped the arm next to the other one and got back to work.

He smirked at her. "So this is just your run of the mill mutilation, then?"

"Do you have a better idea?" She shifted to put more weight behind the downward stroke of the blade.

"No, no." He stepped back as the pool of blood neared his shoes. "I think it's a little late to change horses in at this point in the race anyway."

"Hand me another knife. This one's all dull."

"They're scalpels and they wouldn't be dulling so quickly if you'd be more careful about sawing into bone. They're not made for that."

The leg she'd been working on popped free. "You wanna finish this?"

"Eh." Peter wrinkled his nose. "Nah. You seem to have it covered despite your lack of finesse with a scalpel."

She glared up and pointed the bloody blade at him. "I'm doing the best I can. This isn't something I practice very often." She looked down at the body thoughtfully. "Ya know, Nick would be good at this. We should have waited 'til he could come with us."

"He certainly wouldn't fuck up the knives like you do."

"They're scalpels."

"Whatever. Are you about done here?" He took another step back. "I wanna get home in time to see The Daily Show."

"Yeah, fine." She stood and surveyed her work. "This is good, right? I mean, I usually just burn people. This isn't…" She frowned a little.

"What?"

"Well." She shrugged out of the coveralls and stuffed them into a garbage bag. "I was going to say this isn't normal but I suppose that goes without saying."

He glance down at the corpse and adjacent pile of limbs. "I suppose it does. Nice work, though. It'll totally fucking confuse the feds."

She smiled. The streak of blood still looked charming. He motioned at his own cheek and she wiped her face with one of those awesome little Clorox wipes.

"Thanks, Peter."

"Sure thing. Hey, you wanna get ice cream on the way home?"

"Mmm. Yeah, but let's get container instead of cones so Nick can have some when he gets home."

"Works for me."

Peter took the garbage bag from her as they walked away from the parking lot. Behind them the corpse of an ex-biologist cooled under the orange glare of the sodium lights.


	13. Cold

**Warnings**: Violence, language.

**Spoilers**: None, really

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: Written for Death Bingo. Prompt: Trauma (penetrating). Set when they're 25ish.

* * *

They were huddled together in the doorway in a dark alley watching a nervous man leaning against the side of a blue sedan. They were concealed by shadows and Nick's light suggestion of don't-see-me, waiting for the arrival of the informant's contact before they got the show started.

Peter shivered. "I'm fucking freezing. Where the hell is this guy?"

Nick shrugged.

"Seriously. It's like twenty below out here. Why can't we wait in the fucking car?" He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.

Olivia made an annoyed little sound.

"What?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You've been bitching like a whiny little recruit all night, Peter. Shut up, already."

He whined. "It's cold."

"It's not that cold." Her cheeks and nose were pink even in the low light.

"My balls have retreated all the way up to my lungs. It _is_ that cold."

She smothered a laugh and tried to glare at him.

Nick snickered and flicked his eyes from the informant to Peter. "We'll help you find 'em later."

"I'll be dead of hypothermia later."

Olivia patted his cheek. "Good, you'll be quiet then."

She was shifting closer to him when Nick tensed, swiveled his head to watch the car approaching. They went quiet as they watched the car until it parked, until the driver got out and approached the other man.

Peter's voice lowered, all business now. "Nick, fog them up so we can get close to them. Make it look like a robbery. Nothing weird." He pointed at Olivia who was bouncing eagerly on her toes. The bastard had sold out a team of soldiers that had been operating near Baghdad and civilian casualties had been heavy in the resulting raid. "No fire."

She nodded and flexed her fingers around the knife she was carrying. "Right."

They moved, swift and silent, Olivia in the lead. Nick let his control of them slip when they got close, shifted from concealment to intimidation and the two man scrambled for their weapons, eyes wide with fear. Peter veered towards one car, set about ransacking it. He could hear Olivia's laugh as she closed on her prey.

The informant was inept, should not have been carrying a gun in the first place as badly as he fumbled for it. A lunge from Olivia and a slash of her knife and the gun tumbled away. She circled him, grinning. She maneuvered him until he was backed up against the car and closed the distance. The blade punched through clothing and skin, glanced off his ribs. She followed the momentum, pressed against him and got right in his face. He was babbling, sharp shrieky sounds that she liked and she stabbed him again. He started slumping against her and she held him up for one more stab. His blood was making the leather of her glove slick, warming her hand.

She stepped back and he slid to the ground, bleeding out at her feet. Nick had been far more efficient, gone for the contact's throat. He was riffling through the man's pockets and she did the same. The informant was trying to talk and she considered cutting his tongue out but she thought that would probably fall into the category of weird. Suspicious at the very least. Peter tossed his loot into a garbage bag and moved to the other car. He stripped the car quickly.

The garbage bag was stowed in the trunk, waiting to burned and Nick was driving them towards home minutes later. Peter had the heater running full blast, holding his hands in front of a vent. Adrenaline was warming him and satisfaction was curling through all of them. Olivia leaned forward from the backseat and handed him a thermos.

He twisted towards her and raised an eyebrow.

"Hot chocolate. You always get cold."

He smiled at her. "Thanks."


	14. Training

The room was cold and gray. The walls and floor and ceiling were made of concrete, and there wasn't anything in it except for her. The lights were on now, glaringly bright, extremely white, so bright the light hurt her eyes. The color was shivery and sharp as a blade. Olive clenched her eyes shut, but she could still see the light through her eyelids. The light hurt, but it was better than the darkness. When the lights went out, it was black, so dark her eyes couldn't adjust to it, and it was disorientating. The darkness was suffocating.

They were supposed to recite the Numbers, and that was the only thing they were supposed to do. The isolation was part of their training, because when they were Soldiers they might get caught, even though Olive didn't think there was anyone that could catch them. They might get caught, and the people who caught them would try to trick them into talking, and the tricks wouldn't be nice ones. The tricks would be like this, to make them afraid, and they had to learn to not be afraid. They had to learn to be Soldiers now, because the War was coming and they had to be prepared. They had to pass the Tests, because if they didn't, they couldn't be Soldiers.

She said the Numbers and tried to keep her mind blank. The Tests had a new rule, and she and Nick weren't supposed to help each other now. The punishment last time had been running for miles, then pull-ups, then sparing against the older kids, then being sent to bed hungry and hurting. And even though she had been the one that reached out, grabbed at the comfort of Nick's mind along their link, he'd been punished too. She would't mess up again, because she had to protect Nick. She knew that they used Nick against her, and she against him, to make them do what they were supposed to do, but it didn't matter if she knew or not, because she couldn't help wanting to protect him. She wouldn't let them hurt him.

The floor was cold under her bare feet, and she pulled them back, closer to her body. She was crouched in a corner, shoulder blades pressed against the wall. The wall was cold too, but she'd been there long enough that the concrete had warmed slightly. She hugged her arms around her knees. The gray pants and t-shirt were thin, no protection against the chilly of the air in the room. They'd cut her hair short again, and her head and neck were cold. It was as short as Nick's, to make it easier to attach the sensors.

When she was big enough to stand up to them, she'd make them stop doing that. She'd never cut her hair again and they wouldn't be able to make her. She bit her lower lip against the flood of anger and said the Numbers again. She said them out loud and her voice sounded dull as it bounced off the cold walls.

Olive drew her thoughts back in, forced them away from Nick, but it was like when a tooth was missing and her tongue wanted to be in the space constantly, feeling around where something that was gone should be. They'd see if she reached for him, the little sensors stuck to her head made sure of that, the bundle of cables that snaked down her neck before arching up to the wall. They watched her mind, her connection to Nick. They watched her with the cameras she could feel around the edges of the cell, the wires running back to the observation room, the mass of circuitry there. She edged along the circuits before pulling back. She wasn't supposed to tamper with the equipment during Tests.

Olive muttered the Numbers again, barely moving her lips. Her stomach growled and it sounded ridiculously loud in the cold, gray room. She was hungry enough to think that nearly a day had passed. Not hungry enough for it to be more than two days.

When these particular Tests first started she'd tried to keep track of time, but she couldn't, and that was part of the point, she supposed. She tried to count the seconds to keep track, and this time she'd gotten up to 64,834 before she lost count. Sometimes she started over anyway, even though it didn't help track time, because counting helped keep her from thinking about Nick. She liked counting things better than just counting, but there wasn't much in the room to count. The walls were featureless, the door a faint outline and nothing more. There was a drain in the floor in the opposite corner. There were fifty two openings in the grate over top of it. She knew they kept her here longer each time.

She dropped her head onto her folded arms and whispered the Numbers. Her eyes stung with tears that she fought back. Soldiers weren't supposed to cry, and even though they were Recruits, they weren't like the other kids who would maybe be Soldiers, or maybe they wouldn't and they'd get to go home instead. She and Nick would be Soldiers, and not anything else. They'd always be Soldiers and there wasn't any home for them to go to, anyway. This was home, and if she remembered anything else from before, it didn't matter now, because she couldn't go back there because it was gone. This was her home, and Nick was her family, and they would always be Soldiers.

She sniffled and raised her head, scrubbed a fist against one damp cheek. Olive glared up at one of the cameras, stared at it long a while before she dropped her eyes back down to the wall across from her. She relaxed, uncoiled the tension in her shoulders and let her face go blank again. She slowed her breathing, and focused her thoughts inward, focused on being calm, and quiet, and unbreakable. She was a Recruit, and she would be a Soldier, and she said the Numbers and her voice was steady.


	15. Alpha and Omega

**Warnings**: Language, violence.

**Spoilers**: None. AU.

**Disclaimer**: Not mine, etc.

**Notes**: William Bell sees the future.

When he is seven, William Bell falls ill with a fever.

As he lays in bed, burning, he sees the visions for the first time.

He sees the future.

He sees the path that the world will take, and he sees that the path is mutable. He sees demons set upon that path by his own hand, demons bent to his own will, vicious and beautiful.

The path trembles under their feet, for their swords are sharp and they are merciless, and he is their master.

He sees this, and he knows this; he is meant to shape the world.

* * *

There is a field and it burns. The flames leap towards the sky and consume the stars themselves.

In the field is a woman, and the flames kneel before her, and lick her fingers as would a favored pet.

She is glory and destruction, the fire that is creation, the fire that is annihilation. She is the cold logic of progress that grinds the future into being with no regard for the past. She is the weight of tradition that holds the future captive.

She smiles, benevolent as she burns her enemies to cinders and scatters them on the wind.

* * *

There is a tree, and beneath the tree, in the shade of it's branches is a man.

He grins the trickster's grin.

In his left hand he holds a blade. His right hand bleeds from every cut the blade makes, and the ground beneath his feet is slick with blood.

He is laughter on their field of battle, the joyful songs of the righteous dead. He is the compassion of a quick killing blow.

He is beautiful and damaged, holding back the darkness, holding within him the darkness. He is weak and falters. He is strength that does not fail.

* * *

Behind them is darkness, storm clouds that conceal the horizon. In the shadows is a man, and the man is shadows. He is the storm-ravaged sea, and the ship that treads it's waves unafraid. He is the steady hand that guides the weapon, the eyes that see the target clearly.

He circles the other two with his arms, a shepherd to wolves.

He swallows the pain of his charges, takes upon his body the blows that would fell them, bleeds their wounds.

He is redemption for their crimes.

He is broken, and broken again.

William sees him, and weeps.

* * *

William does not recognize them the first time he sees them. It is a realization that grows over the years, grows along with the growth of their child's bodies.

He sees them in their laughter, when they link their hands together and loop their arms around each other's necks.

He sees them in their tears when they are pushed too far, for he knows they are born of pain, tempered with suffering.

He steels his heart against them. He loves them, and so he destroys them again and again, to see them rise, each time stronger than the last.


End file.
